On the Death of my dear Daughter Eliza Maria Chudleigh : A Dialogue between Lucinda and Marissa . Marissa . O my Lucinda ! O my dearest Friend ! Must my Afflictions never , never End ! Has Heav'n for me no Pity left in Store , Must I ! O must I ne'er be happy more , Philinda's Loss had almost broke my Heart , From her , Alas ! I did but lately part : And must there still be new Occasions found To try my Patience , and my Soul to wound ? Must my lov'd Daughter too be snatch'd away , Must she so soon the Call of Fate obey ? In her first Dawn , replete with youthful Charms , She's fled , she's fled from my deserted Arms . Long did she struggle , long the War maintain , But all th' Efforts of Life , alas ! were vain . Could Art have sav'd her she had still been mine , Both Art and Care together did combine , But what is Proof against the Will Divine ! Methinks I still her dying Conflict view , And the sad Sight does all my Grief renew : Rack'd by Convulsive Pains she meekly lies , And gazes on me with imploring Eyes , With Eyes which beg Relief , but all in vain , I see , but cannot , cannot ease her Pain : She must the Burthen unassisted bear , I cannot with her in her Tortures share : Wou'd they were mine , and she stood easie by ; For what one loves , sure 'twere not hard to die . See , how she labours , how she pants for Breath , She's lovely still , she's sweet , she's sweet in Death ! Pale as she is , she beauteous does remain , Her closing Eyes their Lustre still retain : Like setting Suns , with undiminish'd Light , They hide themselves within the Verge of Night . She's gone ! she's gone ! she sigh'd her Soul away ! And can I ! can I any longer stay ! My Life , alas ! has ever tiresome been , And I few happy , easie Days have seen ; But now it does a greater Burthen grow , I'll throw it off and no more Sorrow know , But with her to calm peaceful Regions go . Stay thou , dear Innocence , retard thy Flight , O stop thy Journy to the Realms of Light , Stay till I come : To thee I'll swiftly move , Attracted by the strongest Passion , Love . Lucinda . No more , no more let me such Language hear , I can't , I can't the piercing Accents bear : Each Word you utter stabs me to the Heart : I cou'd from Life , not from Marissa part : And were your Tenderness as great as mine , While I were left , you would not thus repine . My Friends are Riches , Health , and all to me , And while they're mine , I cannot wretched be . Marissa . If I on you cou'd Happiness bestow , I still the Toils of Life wou'd undergo , Wou'd still contentedly my Lot sustain , And never more of my hard Fate complain : But since my Life to you will useless prove , O let me hasten to the Joys above : Farewel , farewel , take , take my last adieu , May Heav'n be more propitious still to you May you live happy when I'm in my Grave , And no Misfortunes , no Afflictions have : If to sad Objects you'll some Pity lend , And give a Sigh to an unhappy Friend , Think of Marissa , and her wretched State , How she's been us'd by her malicious Fate , Recount those Storms which she has long sustain'd , And then rejoice that she the Port has gain'd , The welcome Haven of eternal Rest , Where she shall be for ever , ever blest ; And in her Mother's , and her Daughter's Arms , Shall meet with new , with unexperienc'd Charms . O how I long those dear Delights to taste ; Farewel , farewel ; my Soul is much in haste . Come Death and give the kind releasing Blow ; I'm tir'd with Life , and over-charg'd with Woe : In thy cool , silent , unmolested Shade , O let me be by their dear Relicks laid ; And there with them from all my Troubles free , Enjoy the Blessings of a long Tranquillity . Lucinda . O thou dear Suff'rer , on my Breast recline Thy drooping Head , and mix thy Tears with mine : Here rest a while , and make a Truce with Grief , Consider ; Sorrow brings you no Relief . In the great Play of Life we must not chuse , Nor yet the meanest Character refuse . Like Soldiers we our Gen'ral must obey , Must stand our Ground , and not to Fear give way , But go undaunted on till we have won the Day . Honour is ever the Reward of Pain , A lazy Virtue no Applause will gain , All such as to uncommon Heights would rise , And on the Wings of Fame ascend the Skies , Must learn the Gifts of Fortune to despise . They to themselves their Bliss must still confine , Must be unmov'd , and never once repine : But few to this Perfection can attain , Our Passions often will th' Ascendant gain , And Reason but alternately does reign ; Disguis'd by Pride , we sometimes seem to bear A haughty Port , and scorn to shed a Tear ; While Grief within still acts a tragick Part , And plays the Tyrant in the bleeding Heart . Your Sorrow is of the severest kind , And can't be wholly to your Soul confin'd : Losses like yours , may be allow'd to move A gen'rous Mind , that knows what 'tis to love . Who that her innate Worth had understood , Wou'd not lament a Mother so divinely good ? And who , alas ! without a Flood of Tears , Cou'd lose a Daughter in her blooming Years : An only Daughter , such a Daughter too , As did deserve to be belov'd by you ; Who'd all that cou'd her to the World commend , A Wit that did her tender Age transcend , Inviting Sweetness , and a sprightly Air , Looks that had something pleasingly severe , The Serious and the Gay were mingl'd there : These merit all the Tears that you have shed , And could Complaints recall them from the Dead , Could Sorrow their dear Lives again restore , I here with you for ever would deplore : But since th' intensest Grief will prove in vain , And these lost Blessings can't be yours again , Recal your wand'ring Reason to your Aid , And hear it calmly when it does persuade ; 'Twill teach you Patience , and the useful Skill To rule your Passions , and command your Will ; To bear Afflictions with a steady Mind , Still to be easie , pleas'd , and still resign'd , And look as if you did no inward Trouble find . Marissa . I know , Lucinda , this I ought to do , But oh ! 'tis hard my Frailties to subdue : My Head-strong Passions will Resistance make , And all my firmest Resolutions shake : I for my Daughter's Death did long prepare , And hop'd I shou'd the Stroke with Temper bear , But when it came , Grief quickly did prevail , And I soon found my boasted Courage fail : Yet still I strove , but 'twas , alas ! in vain , My Sorrow did at length th' Ascendant gain : But I'm resolv'd I will no longer yield ; By Reason led , I'll once more take the Field , And there from my insulting Passions try To gain a full , a glorious Victory : Which till I've done , I never will give o'er , But still fight on , and think of Peace no more ; With an unweary'd Courage still contend , Till Death , or Conquest , does my Labour end .